


Cutting the Path

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Child Edelgard von Hresvelg, Complicated Relationships, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Origin Story, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27529465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: After a botched assassination attempt, Emile is locked in a dungeon by Those Who Slither in the Dark to be experimented on. At least, that’s their plan until a twelve year old Edelgard comes onto the scene.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Jeritza von Hrym
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	Cutting the Path

**Author's Note:**

> cw: references to past abuse

Emile slumps against the wooden backboard, all four of his limbs stretched as far as they can go, bound by iron shackles. His pale skin shines like a beacon in this dark cavern he’s been sealed away in. He is assuming he is in for some kind of torture, given that these beaked mages keep scuttling about and measuring things, while one particularly haggard mage with wrinkly skin coughs and wheezes over his cane.

To be captured by such fools is truly humiliating. Though he does take some pride in the fact that they had to sub out the first backboard for a bigger one because of Emile’s glorious height.

Already, they have sewn something onto his chest. Specks of blood slide down his skin. Goddess, this is boring. “I would appreciate it if you could just get along with this,” he drawls.

The old man turns to him, hissing. “Why? You in a rush? Heh heh heh.”

“Good one,” Emile shakes his head. If this really is how he falls… well, it  _ is  _ his lot in life. Ever since he killed his shitty dad.

“ **_They are intending to experiment on you, Emile,_ ** ” the dark voice in his head broods. “ **_We must survive, and use our newfound strength to slay them!_ ** ”

The ghoul likes to be referred to as ‘The Death Knight,’ and though Emile admires the tenacity of such a name — it’s a hard pass for right now.

“ _ What do you think I’ve been waiting for? _ ” Emile groans at the stupid ghoul. “ _ Nimrod. _ ”

“ **_Fuckass,_ ** ” the ghoul says back.

Ah yes, finally, someone is  _ finally  _ drawing a syringe and guiding it to his chest. 

But then—a girl shrieks, and the mage hesitates. Good Goddess, why. Just stab him already.

“Leave him alone!” the girl shouts. Her voice is very high, he assumes it is a child.

Upon further examination, she’s very small. She is decently far away enough that it shrinks her stature, but she is still very,  _ very _ small. Thin and wiry, with long white hair and lilac eyes. Her clothing is regal. Probably some royal brat.

She doesn’t look well though. Ghostly white skin and ragged hair, odd for a royal like her. 

“Very cute, Edelgard. Perhaps if you allowed me to experiment on that Von Vestra boy, I wouldn’t have to drag in civilians,” the old man on the cane hisses. “You have no say in what we do here.”

“I think I do, Solon!” she throws her hands on her hips, gangly limbs quivering with rage. She grits her teeth, trying to seem imposing. “As your only  _ successful  _ project and the heir to the Adrestrian Throne, you will—”

‘Solon’ shakes his head. “Ignore her.”

The dark mage with the syringe doesn’t move.

Solon’s eyes bug out of his head. Emile notices that one of his eyes appears inverted, black with a white pupil. Weird guy. “Just do it!”

“Okay, okay!” the Dark Mage grumbles. “Seiros alive, I never know who’s in charge here—”

“By order of the Emperor’s daughter, Edelgard von Hresvelg, I demand you stop!” Edelgard hollers from so far away. 

This goes on for some time, with Edelgard losing the argument. Good. This is boring.

Then Emile notices something  _ incredibly _ amusing. Edelgard pulls a hand ax out from behind her back and the thing is gigantic. Somehow though, she seems to wield it with ease, though her stance is all off. She twists and turns and hurls the damned thing through the air and miraculously, it cleaves the dark mage’s hands right off his wrists, leaving him with two bloody stumps and a shattered syringe on the floor. He promptly collapses and Solon takes a knee, burning and cauterizing the non-consensual amputation.

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Emile titters.

Edelgard walks closer now, scooping up her ax and eying Emile. Though her eyes are so light and her face so girlish, she is very intense. This intrigues him greatly. 

“That shouldn’t have worked,” Emile repeats.

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “What? My throw? I mean, I hit my target.”

“Your stance was off,” Emile shakes his head, forgetting for a moment that he is almost certainly dying in the next few minutes.

“Hmph,” Edelgard smiles and looks to Solon, kicking him gently in the lower back. “I will speak to my Uncle further, you will halt all experimentation until then.”

Solon grumples something and leaves, not even bothering to move the body. 

“I apologize for all this, sir,” Edelgard squeaks. She sounds like a woodland critter, not the Emperor’s daughter. She looks at Emile and then at his shackles. He notes how her eyebrows knit together when she realizes Solon left her no key. “Getting you out of here will be complicated now, I assume. But I will manage it.”

“Edelgard, was it?” Emile asks. “You said you are heir to the throne…”

“Yes,” she says begrudgingly. “Who are you incidentally, um, mister?” She looks at her hand, scrunching her fingers in and out.

“Emile,” he says simply. “I was captured by some knights while attempting to assassinate some Adrestrian lord… didn’t know this was how prisoners out here were treated.”

Edelgard focuses on the shackles, flexing her fingers again. Very odd. “Which lord?”

“Arundel.”

“Really?” she looks up with a mischievous smirk that highlights how round her cheeks are. 

“You remind me of my sister,” he drawls. This is possibly the most he has ever talked to one person since Mercie, and definitely the first time he’s brought her up. It’s just... something about this Edelgard fascinates him. “She’s much older than you though. You must be ten, correct?.”

She blushes and bows her head, saying in a tiny voice, “I turn thirteen in a few moons. Um—this is going to hurt, I apologize in advance.”

“Try me,” he snarks. “I’ve been waiting for someone to hurt me for hours now.”

Edelgard eyes him very cautiously and tentatively wraps her hands around one of his shackles. She closes her eyes and he sees her Crest glow before her. She is so green, probably afraid to be using her Crest’s powers—

—is that a second Crest? 

Wait a second…

Flames spit from Edelgard’s hand and it  _ sears _ his wrist; he doesn’t even feel the shackle fall to the floor besides him. Totally numb. “Sorry,” Edelgard says very quickly, moving to the second wrist. “This is still new for me.”

Emile grits his teeth through the next three flame bursts and says nothing. She’s very young, he still thinks she is ten years old. She definitely sees him as an adult, even though he is only eighteen. He is sure she is easy to manipulate, he could just ask for an explanation of her twin Crests.

But that’s no fun at all. 

“ _ She possesses extraordinary powers, _ ” Emile thinks these exact words to himself very consciously, for the benefit of his dual personality.

“ **_She does, it explains how she can even lift that ax of hers. How thrilling._ ** ”

“ _ True. And her hair is white as snow, I’ve never seen that in one so young. It’s dry too. _ ”

“ **_What is?_ ** ”

“ _ The hair. It’s incredibly dry for someone who should have silky hair. She must have been experimented on. _ ”

“ **_It would do well for us to be experimented on ourselves, perhaps she can arrange_ ** —”

“ _ You’re power hungry, you bore. I’m strong enough as is. _ ”

Edelgard takes his hand very suddenly, which throws him off. Her hand is so small, but her grip is so intense. He admires that about her. She’s strong, and not just in her raw strength but in her heart. Corny though that might be.

“ **_Cheeseball,_ ** ” the voice scoffs. 

“I swear I will protect you,” Edelgard says and normally he’d laugh at a child saying such foolish things.

He raises an eyebrow. He really needs to ask, because this is still bizarre. “I attempted to kill one of your Lords. I don’t understand why you are going out of your way for me.”

It’s a stupid question really, because he’s assuming Edelgard is as soulless as he is. But no, Edelgard is like Mercedes, who is stupid and kind. Mercedes would have done the same thing. 

“Because a few moons ago,” Edelgard whispers in that tiny, fragile voice of hers. “That was me strapped to the table. Come, I’m going to get you some food.”

* * *

Oh, this was a mistake. Here Edelgard was, trying to be  _ noble _ only to realize that she actually doesn’t know how to cook, embarrassingly enough. She stands in the castle kitchen with a blank expression, having never been in here before. There are barrels all over the room; she assumes there is food in them so she walks up to one and opens the lid. 

She sniffs. “Why is there sawdust in here?” she mutters.

“It’s for storing food,” the deep voice Emile says, approaching Edelgard from behind. Goodness, he’s so tall. She only comes to the bottom of his chest. With platinum blond hair and a pointed jaw, he must be so old. 

“Oh,” Edelgard says quietly. “Do you…”

“...actually know how to cook? Yes, I do,” Emile sighs, grabbing an apple from the barrel and immediately biting into it. 

She takes a seat, her feet dangling above the floor, and watches him carefully. At some point he opens a container that immediately casts so much cold into the room. Edelgard can only assume that’s Blizzard magic at work, freezing the desserts. She expects Emile to scoff at this barrel but a glimmer shines in his eye. He snatches a towel and pulls something out of the barrel, wrapping it up tight. 

She’s really worried right now. Mostly because she told him her secret. She’s already been hit a couple of times for mentioning it to folks in distress, folks who were then disappeared. 

She just misses  _ them _ so much. There was a baby she would cradle and protect every night. But she woke up one morning to find that that rats had eaten the poor thing alive while Edelgard slept.

A-and she doesn’t have anyone to talk to about it, aside from Hubert and her father, who both blame themselves and feel tremendous guilt over what happened to her. And she doesn’t think it’s fair to keep hurting them, so sometimes, she just says it to the wrong people. Because she’s still only twelve years old.

She’s hoping this man can help her, because she is desperate.

“Incidentally,” Emile looks to her with a smirk. “I know you think I’m an adult, you should know I am only sixteen.”

Oh. Edelgard’s face goes so red. She wishes she weren’t so small. “Sorry,” she kicks at the air meekly.

“It’s fine,” he says. “You intrigue me. You’re very intense and powerful for a ten year old girl.”

“I already told you that I’m twelve,” she protests.

He takes a big bite from his apple, while cooking up a slab of meat with his other hand. “Sure.”

Edelgard rolls her eyes and hops off the chair. “Hurry up with that meat, I need you to meet someone.”

* * *

The whole walk outside of the palace in the dead of the night is quite frightening. She knows Arundel is watching her walk out from on high, but he hardly ever takes her seriously. He’s always smirking. So smarmy. 

It’s rather unfortunate Emile failed to kill him, because… well… Edelgard never actually met the person she hired to kill Arundel and—this  _ absolutely _ is her person. She trusts him despite his failure. He’s kind to her, and an asshole to everyone who deserves it.

Hubert steps out of the shadows when they’ve come far enough. There’s a link between her and him sustained through dark magic that allows them to communicate telepathically. That’s how he knew to come here. 

He’s tall and sickly, with long raven hair down to his shoulders. His eyes are yellow, making him quite intimidating. His voice also dropped recently, much to his pleasure. He likes to speak in raspy whispers. 

Edelgard thinks Emile and Hubert will get along just fine.

“Hubert, I’d like to introduce you to Emile,” Edelgard steps aside to let them shake hands, but neither bothers with the other and instead just looks to Edelgard. Okay, maybe they won’t take to each other. When it becomes obvious this isn’t going anywhere, Edelgard seats herself on the grass and pats the spots beside her.

Emile crosses his legs and continues to tear away at his steak. 

“Is that steak… well done?” Hubert shudders with such thespian flair.

“Fuck you,” Emile deadpans.

“Boys,” Edelgard pats her knees. “Be nice to each other.”

Emile just snickers at that. She’s starting to see how he is only sixteen years old. This is going nowhere. 

Edelgard turns on Hubert. “I think he is the key to our plan.”

Hubert arcs what would be an eyebrow if he hadn’t burned them off in his own experiments. “We hardly know him.”

Edelgard hardly has a retory for that, but something about her just trusts this man. She really thinks he can help them.

“Emile, have you heard of The Flame Emperor?” Edelgard asks coyly.

Emile sighs, and bows down. Hopefully this is when he gets serious, but instead he just drops his steak to the ground. “I do not like pre-prepared meat. I was foolish to take this, I will kill an animal soon enough and feast.” He plucks out the stolen towel from earlier and reveals it to be hiding—

…

—peach sorbet. He licks it very slowly, taking his time to admire it. 

“Emile,” Edelgard fights hard not to laugh. “Please.”

“I don’t know a Flame Emperor,” Emile says with both eyes closed.

Hubert looks to Edelgard. “Lady Edelgard, is he really—”

“Sh,” Edelgard hisses, trying to seem imposing. She looks hard at Emile, hoping he can sense her piercing gaze and look at her once again. “You’re lying to me. You were hired to kill Arundel by someone called The Flame Emperor.”

“Well, why did you even ask me if you already knew,” Emile drawls. “Yes, I haven’t met him—”

“ _ Her _ ,” she corrects.

Hubert’s jaw drops. “Lady Edelgard…”

Now Emile opens his eyes. “Oh. Ha. I think I know who the Flame Emperor is now. You continue to interest me, Edelgard.”

“I’m full of surprises,” she smirks, getting to her feet. It makes her feel like a child to be so much smaller than everyone else, and of course she is a child physically. 

But she aged about forty years in those dungeons. The child in her was forcibly removed and all that’s left is a shell, a weapon intended to be discarded in about ten to twenty years time she’s estimated.

“I think it was a strategic mistake for me to target Arundel, erm, my uncle,” Edelgard admits. “As you have noticed Emile—there are shadowy people below this castle. They wish to rule Fodlan, as do I. 

Edelgard goes on to explain  _ a lot _ . More than necessary possibly, because she notes how Emile’s eyes darken at the mention of Crests and what they can do to people, and she already knows he has a Minor Crest of Lamine. She’s sure it’s something horrible that placed him on this path. She’s thankful he has some semblance of understanding, because she’s aware that she is not smart enough yet to really explain the ideas in her mind. 

Her voice is so soft and high, her vocabulary so limited. She needs to be stronger and smarter for her people. It’s not what her Uncle wants for her, but as the only surviving experiment—he has no choice but to bend a knee to her at times. He needs her more than she needs him.

That’s why he hits her so much; he’s afraid of her. She reminds herself of that when she cries herself to sleep. He also loathes her plan, he mocks her.  _ Flame Emperor, pah? You? Just do as we say, Edelgard, we know better. _

“I wish to infiltrate the Church,” Edelgard says as strong as her voice can allow. “I think my best chances are to enlist in Garreg Mach when I’m 18 and close to inheriting the throne.”

“Ah,” Hubert leans back, impressed. “Lady Edelgard needs a personal combat instructor, someone she can trust to help her get into the school. Ideally… we want this person to become a teacher at Garreg Mach itself.”

At the current moment, this horrible woman,  _ Kronya _ , is set to train Edelgard on how to kill. She needs to stay as far away from those people as she can. 

Emile sets down his sorbet, his eyes dry and unthinking. Then he quivers as he convulses for a moment. When he returns, he’s smiling. “ **I don’t like staying in one place for too long. I thirst for blood** .”

This isn’t Emile, this is someone else speaking to her. Edelgard doesn’t quite understand, but she feels sorry for Emile. She wants to help him. It can be the first person she really gets to help, the first of hopefully many. 

“Please,” Edelgard squeaks. “It…” She bites her lip. “...will be a long time before we get to kill, Emile but—it will come, and I’m sure it will… erm, satisfy you.”

Emile stares blankly while his jaw moves up and down like a puppet. “ **You have said far too much to me, child. Knowledge like this gets people killed. You are reckless. I don’t trust your judgment.** ”

Edelgard winces, she knows he’s right. She said far too much. But is it so wrong…

...for her to reach out her hand?

“My judgment is poor, I will admit,” Edelgard sighs. “I was… experimented on. For a long time, and I had to watch my family die. I only got out recently, and I can hardly remember anything before then. That time underground is my only memory now. My decision making is poor because I am afraid, and it’s hard for me to think straight but… this is how I’m dealing with it.”

Emile blinks.

“And I think doing the kind of jobs I hired you for was how you’re dealing with whatever happened to you. Similar for Hubert. Please,” she says one last time. She promises herself to let him go if he says no again.

But bless the Goddess, he doesn’t. He offers a wry smile and picks his peach sorbet back up. There’s another convulsion, though this time he suppresses it far more, and licks his ice cream. “I’m in.”

She almost gasps in relief. The only way to avoid that is to laugh, so she laughs and looks to Hubert and reaches for his hand and tickles his wrist, trying to get him to laugh. 

“Stop it,” Hubert whines. “My laugh is too scary, Lady Edelgard, you know I can’t—”

“ _ You _ ?” Emile stares right into Hubert’s soul. “You have a scary laugh. Pah.”

Hubert’s face flushes. “I don’t like this at all.”

Edelgard leans back, knees in the grass, feet behind her, hands digging into the grass together. She smiles.

Her plan might fail, but she knows between herself and the two other broken people besides her, they will change history for the better.


End file.
